Death
by B. D. Legan
Summary: "You're not an enemy of Death," I whispered, my knife edging closer to the man's throat. "Death has no enemies. Death is your friend." I made one quick swipe across his throat, and his eyes went blank. "Death is everyone's friend." /future fic, Nico
1. I'm Not a Festive Person

**Enjoy this, er.. interesting new idea.**

**And special thanks to zynaofthenight. You completely rock. ^_^**

* * *

_We are mere notes in a piece of music played by the angel Death-heard and lost. –Austin O'Malley_

Sometimes I wonder how I ever got myself into this position.

"Please sir," the frail man whispered, cowering in the shadowy corner. He was clearly trembling, his emaciated frame shaking uncontrollably in fear. "Please. I-I beg you. I have a family, a wife, kids. What will they do without me? I am the only person in my family who earns money. Without me, my family will die!" His voice rose into a hysterical shriek at the end, and he buried his face in his hands, moaning.

I sighed. It was the usual routine They were always like this. "Sir, that's not of my concern. My master has ordered your immediate execution. I'm simply following orders." _Besides, you cannot escape me any longer. Father will never allow it._

"But, my daughter," the man said, pleading on his knees now. "She's only three. She needs a father."

I rubbed the knife, a curved blade that fit around my wrist perfectly, in my hand. It gleamed wickedly in the pale moonlight, glinting sharply at the edges. "I'm sorry," I whispered. "Master's orders."

"And my son," the man began, his voice a hoarse whisper. "He's barely a year old. What will become of him?"

I shook my head regretfully. "Sir, as I have tried to explain, the matter is out of my hands."

"My wife," he said insistently. "She's got a baby inside her. I need to be there for her."

I sighed again. I had let it go too far. It was my weak spot, letting the people plead before I took them away. It made me feel cold and uncaring, and on several occasions, it had almost been impossible for me to strike that final blow. I raised my weapon, my Saber Claw, and said, "You can run, or you can stay here. Either way, the job will get done."

"Who are you?" the man asked, his eyes wide. His futile attempts to get away were taking him nowhere.

I laughed, a sad, quite laugh. "I am Death. Sir, do not try to get away. The end will be the same, always. You cannot escape."

The man's face erupted into a look of pure terror as he tried to crawl farther into the corner.

I slowly stepped forward, watching the man shiver. "I don't understand," he said. "What did I do? Why am I an enemy of Death?"

I frowned. They always said that. "You're not an enemy of Death," I whispered, my knife edging closer to the man's throat. "Death has no enemies." The blade touched his throat, and he winced. I pushed it hard against him. A line of crimson began to form. "Death is your friend." I made one quick swipe across his throat, and his eyes went blank, dead. "Death is everyone's friend."

I closed the man's eyes and stood up, dusting myself off. I walked away, another job well done, though I had nearly stopped from killing him. I lifted the black hood over my head as I made my way out of the shadows, stowing my blade inside my cloak.

It was brightly lit outside, even though it was nighttime. I kept my head down as I passed the crowds of people on the street. No one gave me a second glance—everyone was in such a good mood tonight, laughing and singing…

I slipped into the nearest bar, seeking refuge from the mob of merry people. It was equally crowded inside, mostly men, tall glasses of foamy liquid in their hands. They were all staring up at a TV screen. I looked up as well. I saw a tall pole with a large, white ball at the top. It was glowing, and there was a clock behind it. There was an extremely large gathering of people around the clock, and I held my breath as I recognized the scene.

New Year's Eve, the Ball Drop at Times Square.

Everyone in the tiny bar started counting down—ten… nine… eight…—their eyes glued to the screen. I pushed my way through the people, and made it to the bar just as everyone said "ONE!" Cheering erupted, party poppers popped, and some guy put a luau necklace around my neck. Bright, neon pink_. Oh joy_.

The bartender, a man with a scruffy beard and twinkling eyes, made his way over to me. "You not in a festive mood, pal?" he asked, pulling out a rag and wiping down the counter.

"I'm not a festive person," I muttered back, frowning. "I don't think I even remember the last time I was in a festive mood."

The man snorted. "Not many who are anymore."

I looked up at him and caught him staring at my eye, that old scar. He quickly looked away. I sighed, and leaned against the wall next to me, watching the partying people with a sort of numbness.

"You want something to drink?" he asked finally, putting the rag away. He produced a glass from under the counter.

I shook my head. "Just water. I've a long way home tonight." Real long, I thought to myself.

He gave me a broken smile. "Suit yourself." He disappeared with the glass.

I looked down at my watch. _12:04.__ He should be calling soon_, I thought. _Of course, he could summon me again. I still wonder what those kids think happened to me…_

"Here you go, pal," the bartender said. He slid the glass of water to me. I held it up in a silent toast, and drank it.

"You got a name?" the man asked, leaning against the counter.

"Yeah, I smarted. "You?"

"Wise guy, are you?" he laughed. "You remind me of my son."

I didn't say anything. I just stared down at the ice cubes floating in the glass, fighting down the memories that had suddenly resurfaced.

"He's probably around your age. What are you, eighteen?" the bartender asked.

I didn't say anything for a moment. _In all actuality, how old am I?_ I thought back to my eighteenth birthday. It was such a long time ago.

_"Happy birthday, Nico," Annabeth said, patting me on the back. She had a sad look on her face. _

_"Yeah, happy birthday, bro," Grover said, putting an arm around me._

_Annabeth and Grover had come to the Underworld for my birthday party. But how could you celebrate birth in a place of death? It was one of the only safe places left for our kind, though. And to call the Underworld safe… well, you had to be desperate._

_"Happy birthday, my son," a voice said from behind me. A pale hand appeared on my shoulder, and my father gave it a squeeze. "Eighteen is quite the milestone." _

_I could only nod. My father had insisted on throwing me a party. Naturally, I was a bit on edge. Hades wasn't usually the type who threw parties, even for his children._

_"It is," Annabeth said, eyeing the lord of the Underworld with apprehension. _

_Hades nodded amiably. "I think it's time for your gifts."_

_I raised an eyebrow. My father was acting especially odd today. Amiably? When was the last time he had been even in a pleasant mood?_

_"Mr. Underwood," my father said. "You may go first, if you wish."_

_Grover reached into his coat pocket and pulled out a small box. "I made 'em myself," he whispered and handed me the box._

_I opened it. There was a small set of reed pipes. I gave Grover a crooked smile. "Thanks. It's great."_

_"Ms. Chase," Hades said. He motioned for her to present her gift._

_Annabeth looked at me, a sad look, and pulled a slip of paper from her jacket. "I'm sorry, Nico. It's all I could…" She didn't finish her sentence._

_I took the piece of paper from her outstretched hand. I unfolded it and gazed upon the picture. There stood four kids, a tall, tan, blonde girl with grey eyes, a pale, lanky, redhead boy, a small, pale, black haired boy, and a strong, black headed boy with the most brilliant sea green eyes. We were standing with our arms around each other, happy expressions on our faces._

_The summer before the war._

_"So you never forget us," she said quickly, and briefly took my hand._

_"And now mine," my father said. He snapped his fingers and a long cane topped with a curved blade appeared. A scythe._

_"You're giving me this?" I asked, eyeing the weapon nervously. "Uh…thanks?"_

_Hades nodded his head eagerly. "It will be yours if you accept."_

_"Accept what?" I questioned._

_"That's Death's Scythe," Annabeth whispered grimly._

_"Death's Scythe?"_

_My father nodded again, a smile creeping on his face._

_Annabeth looked at me. "He wants you to become Death."_

_"Death? You want me to be Death?" I asked my father. _

_"Yes son, I would be honored if you accepted. You would be my equal, my immortal equal," Hades explained._

_"Immortal? I would be immortal?" I wondered aloud. _

_Hades smiled. "Oh yes, immortal. Immortal just like a certain someone."_

_I looked over at Annabeth. She wore a pained expression._

_I looked back over at my father. "I accept," I whispered._

"You okay there, son?" a voice asked, pulling me back to the present. I looked up to find the bartender giving me a concerned look.

"I'm sorry, what did you say?" I apologized.

"I just asked if you were around my son's age," he said. I must have given him a blank expression because then he said, "Eighteen."

I nodded my head. "Yeah, I guess I'm eighteen."

"You guess?" he asked.

I looked back down at my glass. The ice had nearly melted.

"So," the man started. "You like the President?"

"Of what?"

"The country. You know, Perseus Jackson," he said. "You sure you're okay?"

I shook my head and slammed my glass down on the counter. I raced through the crowd and out the door. I pulled my black cloak closer and kept running, the cold of the January air stinging my face.

"Whoa there, young man," a man dressed as a police officer shouted. He started running after me. "Come back here!"

_Great_, I thought. I darted around a corner into a shadowy alley. I pressed myself up against the wall and snapped my fingers. I disappeared in a cloud of smoke.

I stumbled and fell onto the rocks, scraping my palms. Golden _ichor_ seeped out. _Awesome_. I wiped them on my pants and stood up.

I was standing on top of a cliff looking down at the steely grey water. The moon was reflecting off it.

Crater Lake.

_Home sweet home. _

I smiled and trudged into my little trailer, closing the door behind me. I flipped the light on, and looked around. Someone had been rummaging around again. Oh well, they wouldn't find anything.

I looked down at my watch. _12:17_. I guessed I'd go call him since he hadn't yet. I grabbed one of the old newspapers lying on the stove and stepped outside. I walked over to my fire pit and started to rip up the paper. The headline caught my eye: _President Jackson elected to twenty-second term_. There was a picture of a boy, forever frozen in his youth, at age sixteen.

_How could they not realize he doesn't age?_ I thought bitterly. I ripped the paper up and held my hand out, palm facing up. I envisioned a flame dancing in it. Sure enough, when I opened my eyes, a green flame was floating in my hand.

I lit the paper and prepared to message my father. Percy may be able to control water communication, but there's no way he could ever control fire.

It was amazing how I had managed to keep my existence a secret after all this time. I guarantee he still thinks I died with all… Never mind.

I sighed and whispered into the fire, "Hades, the Underworld."

* * *

**Remember children, reviews are appreciated. ;)**


	2. The Drunken Duck

**Thanks zynaofthenight. You are quite amazing. ^_^**

_

* * *

_

_O Death, rock me asleep, bring me to quiet rest, let pass my weary guiltless ghost out of my careful breast. -Anne Boleyn_

The fire blazed to life, and swirled many different colors. I felt my gut pushing and pulling against my insides, almost as though I would explode.

_Almost._

Then, it stopped, and I was face-to-face with the Lord of the Dead himself. Sort of, at least.

"Father," I whispered, bowing my head, then looking up again.

The god who was my immortal parent raised his head up and looked me straight in the eye, a very daunting feat, believe me. His black eyes flared shades of green, and his pale face twisted into a look of rage.

"What?" he snapped.

I sighed. "Peter Humnel has been disposed of."

His gaze softened a bit. "And how was it?"

"He put up no fight," I said, a sad smile on my face. "He hardly even recoiled when I told him I was Death." _Hardly was putting it at a rather loose term, though._

Hades shook his head, a slight grin on his face. "Yes, well—"

"Emilio!" a shrill voice called from somewhere out of the line of my sight. "Emilio, are you coming?"

The god mumbled under his breath, his nose twitching, his eyebrows scrunching.

"Who _is _that?" I asked curiously. "Emilio? Who…?"

"That's um…" my father whispered, scrambling to come up with an answer. "Um… a client of mine."

"What?" I asked. Well, I may have _shouted_. But that's of no importance. "Your client? What, is she being interviewed for Charon's job or something?"

Hades opened his mouth to speak, when the lady yelled again. "Emilio! I'm getting cold! Hurry up in there!"

"Oh gods," I mumbled, everything making sense to me a click. "Why?"

"I'll be out in a minute, Maria," he yelled and turned back to me.

"MARIA? Her name is _Maria_?" My fists clenched and my breathing quickened. It was one thing to be with a woman, but one named Maria… "Why? Why Dad? Just… why?" I heard my voice break, and I sucked in a gulp of air, a hiccup.

My father gave me one last look, and raised his hand to end the message. Just before it blacked out, I swore I saw a tear escape his eye.

_How dare he?_ I thought. _How dare he dishonor my mother like that? Has he no honor?_ I hiccupped again, and felt my eyes tear up. _How could he do that? How could he stand the thought of being with a woman who bears the name of my mother?_

A tear escaped my eye and started traveling down the side of my face, its track warm and moist. _Stop it,_ I told myself. _Stop. That man, and I use the term in the lightest, is not worth it. He is nothing but a disgrace._

_A disgust. _

_A filth. _

_A swine. _

_He is not worthy to grace my thoughts._

I swiftly stood up and willed the fire out. All the pieces of newspaper had burnt, except one.

_His picture._

I reached down among the ashes and picked it up. I briefly glanced at it and ripped it to shreds. _There's another one not worthy to grace my thoughts_, I thought bitterly. But of course, having thought about not thinking about him, naturally made me think about him.

_"Nico," he laughed, a smile on his tan face. His dark hair shadowed his eyes… his brilliant sea green eyes shone—he was always handsome that way. He might have not known it, but I had seen the way girls looked at him in public—a look that would have Annabeth seething with rage for the rest of her life if she had seen them._

_"What?" I asked, giving him a playful punch on the arm. "Percy, you've been so cryptic these days, I'm starting to wonder if you're training to be a Secret Agent." _

_"It's nothing," he muttered, and reached down to tend the fire. A silver bracelet gleamed on his wrist, and something stirred inside me. I recognized that bracelet. It looked so familiar…_

_"Where'd you get the bling?" I asked him, eyeing the jewelry. _

_He quickly glanced down and pulled his hoodie sleeve over it. "Doesn't matter," he said carelessly, flicking his hair away from his eyes. "It's nothing, I said." _

_"Perce," I said, grabbing the stick he was using. He wouldn't let go, and neither would I. "Something's bugging you. I can feel it."_

_He continued to stare at the fire. "Sometimes I wonder how differently things could turn out."_

_"What do you mean?"_

_He looked up at me, a cold grin on his face. "You could have great power," he whispered, the moonlight reflecting grimly off of him. "Power you never knew about."_

_"Huh? What power?"_

_He flashed a crooked grin. "Sometimes you're so naïve, Nico," he chuckled. "That's one of the things I love most about you."_

_"Naïve?" I asked. I put a hand on his shoulder. "How so?"_

_He placed his hand on mine and held it there for a moment. His touch was cold, and felt like water coursing._

_"You're so cold," he murmured. "Always so cold."_

_I gently pulled my hand back and looked up at him. "But how am I naïve?"_

_He chuckled. "The whole world is naïve, Nico. So very naïve."_

_I sat there for a moment. Images began forming in my mind, and something, a vague realization, flickered inside my head. Finally, I said, "That bracelet, it looks like—"_

_"Like whose, Nico?" He looked me in the eyes, and I noticed something I hadn't before, a darkness. The same darkness I had seen in—_

_"Luke?" he asked._

_"How did you—"_

_"A lucky guess," he whispered, his green eyes gleaming. "A very lucky guess, apparently."_

_"But that would mean—"_

_He nodded his head and smiled wickedly. "Luke's not the only one sharing a body." He moved closer, and I noticed something sharp and glinting in his hand. "Sorry Nico."_

An icy wind blew, bringing me back to the present. I shivered and stood up, the memories flooding back to me in a frenzy. The scraps of paper swirled in the wind, a wind I knew all too well. It started to resemble the figure of a woman, her long hair billowing, her arms outstretched.

"Gale," I said, smiling. "How're you?"

The wind swirled around me, a small white flower floating from within. As soon as I caught it, it wilted, the dainty leaves turning brown and desiccate. The wind disappeared just as fast as it had come.

"Why thanks for asking, Nico," I whispered to myself, imitating Gale. "I'm doing swell."

I laughed at my little joke and glanced down at the once beautiful flower. It had been white, a pure soul.

_Gods, why? _

In the center of the flaccid flower was the image of my next victim.

_Why?_ When the flower was black, I had no problem with the quest. But when it was white… _Don't think about. If you think about it, it's worse._

_How can it not be worse?_ I asked myself. I had no rebuttal. I sighed and lifted the black hood of the cloak over my head. I crumbled the flower into a fine dust and tossed it into the air. I willed myself to shadow travel as the dust hit my skin.

I stumbled, my knees grazing the cobblestone sidewalk. I stood up, brushing myself off, and looked around. I was standing on an old road, marked by years of traveling. To either side of the road were a few farmhouses, small and quaint. Directly in front of me was a pub.

_I seem to have a habit of finding bars,_ I thought to myself, and was surprised to find a bit of maniacal irony in my thoughts. _Gods, I must be losing it._

I could hear the music from out here, peppy and upbeat… and distinctly Irish.

"Come on, lad," a voice said from behind me. Before I knew it, I was being kangarooed along by a large man in a tie-dye shirt.

"Wha-where are you taking me?" I asked, my voice a bit shaky.

"Into the pub, of course!" he shouted. "Don't want cha catchin' cold out here!"

"That's the least of my worries," I mumbled.

"You say something, brother?" the man asked as he opened the door. He pulled me up beside him, and said, "Welcome to The Drunken Duck."

"The Drunken Duck?"

"Aye," he said. "Only pub this side 'o Dingle."

"Right."

The man gave me a pat on the shoulder and started to make his way to the bar, stopping every so often to talk to someone. I looked around cautiously, taking note of my surroundings. There were a couple tables to one side of the room, an open floor in the middle, and a small stage to the other, where a band was playing. The bar took up the entire back wall. The place was packed, and nearly everyone was drunk out of their minds.

I decided to _try_ to find my way through the crowd of merry, dancing couples to the bar.

Key word here is _try._

I pushed past the first few couples with only minor problems, and then I hit the really drunk dancers. I accidently ran into this really, really big lady, and she turned around and gave me a giant, bone crushing hug.

"Dance with mmmeeee, darllllin'," she managed to spit out, and took my hands and twirled me around in circles.

"Ma'am," I said, my words barely audible above the music. "I need to go. Please let me go."

She threw her head back, belched, and laughed. "You ain't goin' nowheresss."

"Gods." I tried to yank my hands away, but her grip was far too strong. She kept spinning around and around and around…

_How long until she—_

Suddenly she stopped and her face turned a funny shade. She looked at me real hard, and then threw up all over me.

Naturally, I jumped back, trying to get away from the pure nastiness. Of course I, with my uber-awesome luck, bumped into the meanest drunk in the house. The old man turned around and looked me square in the eye, staggering only slightly.

The entire bar hushed, the band silent.

The man lifted his shaky arm and grabbed the collar of my cloak. "What're you lookin' at, boy?" he spat, his dank breath hot on my face. It smelt strongly of whisky.

I smiled. This would be fun. "Certainly not you, that's for sure."

"And why's that, son?" he asked, edging closer to my face.

I chuckled. "My eyes would surely bleed!"

"Why you little—" The man let go of my collar and swung at my face. I ducked, and he hit some other guy, which in turn, swung to hit another. The band started playing a fast tempo, and soon the whole bar was in one big fight, everyone throwing punch after punch.

I had managed to avoid all the punches, and I had almost made it to the bar, when, out of nowhere, someone hit me square in the nose.

"Gah," I managed to choke as I stumbled into a barstool. I reached up and felt my nose. There was a steady stream of gold dripping from it, onto the floor.

"Oh gods, I'm so sorry," a girl whispered as she helped me to my feet.

_Gods?_

I looked up at the girl. She had the most shocking red hair. And her eyes, they were a brilliant green, like the grass that was sure to be outside. She had a splash of freckles across the bridge of her nose, and a small mole above her lip. Her left eyebrow had a small ring, and her eyes were lined very dark with kohl.

Why was I taking such notice of her face?

_She was breathtaking_, my mind so kindly decided to supply.

"Are you okay?" she asked me. "Please be okay." She was shaking my shoulders, and had taken the bottom of her shirt and was wiping my nose.

I smiled at her. "I'm peachy. Just peachy."

"Oh gods," she said. "There's so much blood." She was starting to turn a shade paler than before. I reached up and grabbed her hands.

"Thanks," I said. "But I'm fine, really."

"No you're not," she said, but she let go of her shirt. It had blood all over it. _Golden_ blood.

She looked down at her shirt and smiled. _Kind of._

"I uh… guess you might want an explanation to that," I said, nodding to her ruined shirt. I realized I was still holding her hands. I blushed and let go quickly.

She shook her head no. "I've been waiting for you," she smiled.

"Oh really?" I asked, backing away from her. _That couldn't be a good sign. _

She grabbed on to my shoulders. "Don't worry, I won't hurt you."

"What do you mean, you've been waiting for me? And why did you say gods?" I asked. "Why not, _God_?"

She rolled her eyes. "Sit down. It's going to be a long story."

"But I-"

"Just shut up for a minute," she said, grabbing my hand and leading me to the bar. I heard her mumble something about, "Boys.

* * *

**:) Hehe, review please. ^_^**


	3. Be Free, Little Grace

**Thanks a million to zynaofthenight. :D**

**Ye be warned, the ending is sad. **

_

* * *

_

_In every cradle decked with rosy wreath, lurk germs of death. –Victor Hugo_

"Two waters, please," the girl said curtly to the bartender, and he nodded and walked away.

"Waters?" I asked.

She laughed and her eyes scrunched. "I'm not a drinker," she explained. She looked me over and then said, "Neither are you."

"How do you know if I drink—"

She laughed again, and I found, to my surprise, it was a pleasant laugh, one that I hadn't heard for such a long time. "You're not, I can tell."

I sighed. "No, I guess I'm not."

The bartender sat our waters in front of us. "Hey kiddos, could I asked ya something?"

I looked up at the man. He was young, probably in his mid-twenties, and had dark hair streaked with grey. His eyes were sunken into his head with dark circles around them, giving him a sort of ragged, exhausted look.

"I don't—" the girl started to say.

"Please, it'll only take a moment," the man said. "And you don't even have to do anything."

She looked over at me and shrugged her shoulders. "What do we have to do?"

"Just keep an eye on the place. I need to go upstairs and check on something."

"But I don't think we're—"

"I'll be back." The man slipped away, up the stairs behind the counter.

"Well that was great," the girl said huffily. "_Just keep an eye on the place. I need to go upstairs and check on something_." She took a sip of her water.

"Who are you?" I asked, staring down at my glass, now that we could talk without being overheard.

"I should be asking you the same," she said curiously. "Who are _you_?"

I shook my head. "I need to go. I have business that must be attended." I put my hood over my head and started to stand up.

"No!" she said quickly, placing a hand on my shoulder, pulling me back down. "No."

"Why not?"

She sighed. "I've been alone for so long."

"What does this have to do with me?"

"It has everything to do with you," she whispered. "You're the first person I've seen who's not a mortal, in over seventy years."

"_Seventy_ years?"

"Yeah," she murmured softly. "It's been a long time."

I looked around. The bar fight still raged on. I leaned in and whispered, "I think it's safe to say you're not mortal, right?"

She rolled her eyes. "That's pretty obvious. And I'd say you're not mortal, either."

I chuckled under my breath. "That's an understatement."

She sighed. "It's clear I'm not going to get anything out of you. I guess I'll just tell you about me. Is that acceptable?"

"Sure, why not," I said in assent, sipping some more of my water.

She smiled. "So typical."

"Of what?"

"Of your type," she said, laughing.

"My type?"

"Uh huh."

"Care to elaborate?"

She shrugged her shoulders. "You're quiet, a smart-aleck, a tad on the dark side, and a boy."

I looked at her. Surely she was kidding. "So I'm a quiet, snappy, dark, boy?"

"Pretty much," she agreed.

"Um, alright?"

She closed her eyes and took a deep breath, composing herself. When she opened them, she held her hand out and said, "I'm Megan, daughter of Demeter, Hunter of Artemis."

I eyed her hand. "Demeter, Artemis," I whispered. "Haven't heard those names in a while."

She glanced at me, a frown on her pale face, and placed her outstretched hand onto her lap.

"Have you been in contact with Artemis?"

She shook her head slowly. "I haven't heard a word from Lady Artemis, or any of my sisters, since-" she hesitated. "Since… Camp Half Blood was destroyed."

I cursed. That was when all the gods suddenly disappeared. "What happened to them?"

She winced, remembering. "It was cold that day. So cold." She wrapped her arms around her body. "We had just set up camp. We weren't far from Camp Half Blood. We were heading to the tent where we ate." She shook her head. "I remember hearing an explosion from far away, and Lady Artemis talking with Thalia. She looked worried, and kept motioning towards the wooded area behind camp. I guess she sensed what was coming…"

I looked down at my drink again. I didn't know what to say.

"The next thing I know," she whispered. "There's an explosion of green flames, and everything turns to chaos. My sisters are running and shouting," she hiccupped, "and falling. I couldn't see what was happening. There was so much smoke."

A man stumbled over to Megan and I, mumbled something, and fell flat on his face. Megan didn't even look at him.

"I just stood there, watching my sisters fall. I didn't even try to help. I was frozen." She stifled a sob.

"There wasn't much you _could_ do," I said, still not meeting her eyes.

She shook her head again, her jaw set. "I could have died with my sisters. I could have died a hero."

"But you didn't."

"No, I ran like a coward. I kept running and I didn't stop. I didn't stop until I was far, far away." She sighed and looked up at me. "I went back," she whispered. "Years later, I went back. I had to see."

I smiled sorrowfully. I knew exactly how she felt.

"Everything was gone," she whispered. "Burned. Destroyed. But not gone enough to be unable to tell where everything had been. You could still see where the cabins had been, the Big House, the forest…"

I pulled my cloak tight around me.

"I-I walked around, to see if anything survived."

"And did anything?"

She shook her head. "Nothing. But-" she bit her lip. "Some_one_ survived."

My back went rigid, my eyes wide. "Who?"

Her eyes darted back and forth, as if she were just now seeing where we were. She whispered, "The Oracle."

"Rachel? She survived? Really?" I asked. I had this big, silly grin on my face, and I knew it. _Someone's alive. Someone I know_.

"No," she muttered. "No, _no one_ survived." She had a look in her eyes, like she was seeing something other than the bar.

My smile dropped, and an icy feeling settled in the pit of my stomach. "What do you mean?"

"The spirit of the Oracle still lingers around Camp," she said, a grimace on her face. "Or, at least it was there when I was."

"You mean it gave you a—"

She nodded her head. "A prophecy."

_Great_. "What did she say?"

Megan smiled, a small smile, and said, "I have it memorized. I've repeated it so many times…"

She took a moment to compose herself, then said,

_"The lonely one, with blood of gold,_

_who has seen the end of many, must withhold._

_He will become leader of the few._

_Only together can you make it through_

_the dark times of great despair._

_Only those of the divine heir,_

_will find it within,_

_to rise above and bring to an end,_

_the darkness that has unfurled._

_Only then can you bring peace to the world."_

"That's all?" I asked.

She glared at me. "Yes, that's all."

"Why'd you tell it to me?"

"You're the one the prophecy is talking about," she said, motioning down to her ruined shirt. "Blood of gold, it's you!"

I shook my head. "No, it's not about me. Trust me. I'm no leader. It's not me."

"Why are you so sure it's _not_ you?" she asked. "I have been looking for you for such a long time. The Fates brought the two of us here. It's you," she said, putting a hand on my arm. "I just know it."

I shrugged off her arm. "No, it's not."

I stood up and started to walk away, when a weary voice said, "Thank you both for watching the place for me. I wish I had something to pay you, but-"

"It's no problem," Megan said. "Things come up, I understand."

The voice sighed and said, "Yeah, they sure do. I feel so helpless anymore."

I turned back around to face the bartender and Megan. "I know the feeling," she muttered.

"Everyone seems to know the feeling these days," the bartender said. He gave her a sad smile, his honey eyes gleaming.

_Honey eyes_. Honey eyes like in the white flower from Gale.

I sighed and walked back to my seat at the bar.

_He had to have been checking on someone upstairs,_ I thought. _Someone sick._

I pulled my old notebook from my cloak, and pretended to be writing something down. The bartended eyed my notebook and said, "What're you writing, son?"

I smiled. "Just trying to finish up my essay. It's part of my final in immunology. It's one of my favorites, sir."

His eyebrows raised, and I saw a gleam in his eye, a glimmer of hope. "For medical school?"

I nodded my head. "Uh huh. I'm training to become a pediatrician. I'm working on my third year at Dublin," I lied.

"Are you a medical student, too, miss?" he asked the Hunter of Artemis.

Megan looked over at me, her eyebrows furrowed. "Um… yes, yes I am," she said, a false smile on her face. She kept glancing over to me.

"And what brought you two out here?" he asked, a smile playing on his face.

"I just, I had this feeling I would be needed, I guess," I said. I motioned back to the people fighting. "I guess I was right. With this bar fight, there's bound to be people that need medical attention."

"Right," he said quickly. "A pediatrician, you said? That's what you're training for?"

I nodded vigorously, trying to look ignorant. I hated lying to people, though. Especially with something like this. "Top of my class, sir."

He seemed to be debating something. Finally, he said, "Could you come upstairs with me, please? My daughter, she's—" Tears started well up inside his eyes. "She's not faring too well."

I glanced over at Megan. She still looked confused, but she was trying to hide it. I turned back to the man. "Of course I will. It'll give me a chance to practice my skills!"

"I-I'll come too," Megan said quickly. "So I can assist you."

"Alright," he said. "Come over here, and I'll let you behind the bar." He lifted up a space on the end, and motioned for us to come over. We did.

"Just go on up those stairs. I'll be up in a moment," the man said, and turned back to the bar.

"What are you doing?" Megan whispered as she started up the dark stairs.

"My job," I whispered back.

"Dare I ask again, but who are you?"

I sighed. I guessed I owed her some sort of truth. "I'm Nico."

"Yeah, that helps a lot," she snapped.

I didn't say anything.

"You're not really a doctor, are you?" she asked. "I mean, that's not your job, is it?"

I shrugged my shoulders in a _maybe, maybe not expression_.

"Oh come on, give me something," she said, as fiercely as someone could in a whisper.

"Open the door," was my response. "We're at the top of the stairs."

She shook her head and turned around to open the door. We were met with a dim light, but still brighter than on the staircase.

"Liam? Liam, is that you?" a tired, weary voice asked.

"Um, no, it's uh… I'm Orla and this is Ronan," Megan said, stepping up into the room. I followed behind.

The room was small, probably only eight feet long and wide, and sparsely furnished. There was a small bed, rocking chair, and crib. There was a doorway off to the left.

"The bar's downstairs," said the voice. It was coming from the doorway.

"Your husband, Liam," Megan said. "He asked us to come up here and take a look at your daughter."

"He did?" the voice asked.

"How did you know he was her husband?" I whispered. Megan elbowed me in the chest.

"Yes, we're studying medicine in Dublin, ma'am," she said.

"Both of you?"

I answered this time. "Yes ma'am. I think I—" Megan elbowed me. "_We_ can help your daughter. I've studied some new techniques on children that could be helpful." The voice didn't answer. "I think I can help. Please."

Slowly, a woman stepped out from the shadows of the doorway. She was petite, and carried herself with a certain elegance. She had olive skin, and had dark brown hair. Her kind eyes were brown, and had dark under them, like her husband. She was holding a baby in her arms, a dark mass of hair atop its head.

"I'm Cierra," she said, her voice soft. She gave us a small smile. "This is Grace."

Megan stepped forward, her hand outstretched. "She's beautiful," she whispered.

Cierra nodded and held Grace out for Megan to hold. She handed Grace to her with such gentleness. A gentleness I hadn't seen since B—

_Don't think about her_, I told myself. _It hurts too much_. My wayward thoughts took me elsewhere, a time long ago.

_"Nico, you have spaghetti sauce on your face," a kind voice said. "Here, let me get it." A gentle hand reached up and wiped my face._

_I pushed her hand away. "I could have gotten it," I said. Secretly, though, I liked her doing things like that. It made her seem more like my sister, that she loved me even more._

_I looked over at Bianca. She was smiling, her eyes crinkled. She subconsciously reached over and pushed a rouge strand hair from my eyes._

_"You're such a messy boy," she said, and tickled my belly. I tried to act like it hadn't tickled, but ended up laughing. I reached over and tickled her side. _

_We were both laughing and tickling each other when our father came into the room, a dark pinstripe suit on, his hair slicked back. We both stopped immediately. _

_"Come on, children. We're going to wait downstairs in the lobby while your mother finishes getting ready." He walked over to us, and offered his hands. We took them. _

_We walked down the stairs to the lobby, and I touched Bianca's shoulder. "Tag, you're it!" I yelled, and took off running, dodging the white marble columns. _

_Bianca caught up to me quickly, and tagged me. I momentarily glanced over to the stairway, where our mother had just emerged, wearing a black dress and gloves. My father greeted her, and the two sat down on a sofa and began to talk. _

_I chased after Bianca, laughing. She slowed down enough for me to tag her. Once I did, she stopped running. _

_"Where do you think daddy's taking us?" she asked, her cheeks rosy. _

_I shrugged my little shoulders, and watched out mother lean down and kiss Hades, then walk back up the stairs. "Somewhere with a golden palace made of sticks!"_

_Bianca giggled, her sweet smile lighting up the room. Then it faltered. "Mommy?"_

_A black wall of energy enveloped us, and an explosion sounded. Pieces of the hotel rained down on top of us, lightning flashed, thunder boomed, and fires erupted all around us. _

_"Mommy?" Bianca called out again, her voice high pitched with fear. "Mommy?"_

_Hades was kneeling in front of us, the broken form of our mother in his arms. Tears streaked his face._

_I stood there watching our mother. "Mommy?" I asked along with Bianca, my voice weak and confused._

_Our father shook a fist at the sky, and shouted something. His form started to light up, a nearly blinding light. At the last second, he seemed to regain control. He said something, and Bianca and I dissolved in a shadow._

"Ronan, will you look at her, now?" Megan said, bringing me crashing back to the present. She was holding Grace out for me. I looked around. Liam had entered the room, and had an arm around the small figure of Cierra, holding her close.

"Oh, right," I said, holding my arms out. Megan placed Grace into my arms. She looked up at me, an innocence so sweet showing in her honey eyes. She was very warm in my arms.

"How long has she been like this?" I asked as I felt for her pulse. It was very faint, beating in her chest like a butterfly, uncertain.

Liam shook his head. "Since she was born. She was born too soon, and the doctors just sent us home."

Cierra nodded her head and muttered, "Sent us home."

I looked back down to baby Grace. She blinked weakly. I brushed my cool fingers across her forehead. So hot. I took one of Graces' tiny hands. She held on meagerly to my finger.

I looked up to her parents slowly and sighed. "I'm sorry," I whispered. "I'm so sorry."

"What do—"

"Be free, little Grace. Be free," I whispered. I felt a tug in my gut, and saw a faint white spirit rise from the small being. "I grant you safe passage to the Underworld."

The wispy figure slowly floated away. I shook my head and handed Grace's body to Megan.

"Wait, where are you-" Megan started to say.

With tears forming in my eyes, I snapped my fingers. "I'm so sorry," I whispered as I dissolved in the shadows. "So sorry."

* * *

**Yeah.**

**:'(**

**The prophecy took an hour and a half to write. I hope it's decent. **

**Tell me what you thought. **

**Check out my profile if you want to see a banner for _Death. _**


	4. Cracker Dust

**Greetings, my pretties. :) Hum.. most of the chapter is in **_italics_**, so ye be warned. Oh, and thanks zynaofthenight for beta-ing. ^_^**

_

* * *

_

The boundaries which divide Life from Death are at best shadowy and vague. Who shall say where the one ends, and where the other begins? -Edgar Allan Poe

I stumbled out of the shadows, the rocks skidding as I tried to balance myself. Trying to control my breathing, I briefly glanced at the darkened sky. The pale moon was slowly edging its way across the abysmal sky, its silence pouring around me like the loudest scream. It was still odd to think that Phoebe was leading the moon now, not Artemis. The Titans had made a very smooth transition to power—in fact, the mortals didn't even seem to notice.

I cursed under my breath and staggered to my trailer, the silver siding reflecting the liquid light something fierce. Opening the door clumsily, I sighed, glancing at the messy contents in my home. Rubbing my eyes wearily, I barely made it to my bed before I passed out.

_"Excellent form," someone said. "If I step here-"_

_I looked around, suddenly aware that I had stepped around an invisible circle, going in the opposite direct of my opponent's feet. _

_"Very good! And if I step again, you step again," the voice said._

_I stepped, continuing around the circle, following my suitor's footwork. Step. Swing. Step. Parry. Step. Swing. Step. Parry._

_"And if I do this," he said, his sword arcing towards my head. I raised my sword to block, and met his. I stayed steady, apply pressure to his sword, and he to mine._

_"And when I do this," he said, releasing the pressure from his sword. I lunged forward, unable to put up a resistance to the change in motion. I doubled over, catching my breath, sweat dripping from my brows and into my eyes. _

_"You must be alert at all times," he said. I turned just in time to meet his blade, striking with all my strength. He stumbled backwards, a scowl on his face. His black hair hung in sweaty clumps. _

_"And when all else fails," he said, raising his sword, a maniacal grin on his face. With a shout, he ran forward, his sword outstretched-_

_I was on the ground, my eyes closed, trying to find my stolen breath. There was an immense amount of pressure on my mid-section. I wearily opened my eyes and saw him standing over me, his foot on my stomach, his sword pushing down on my chest. _

_We stayed in that position, breathing heavy and sweating buckets, for quite some time. _

_Finally, he smiled, his sea green eyes crinkling. "You go for the kill," he whispered, removing his foot and sword. He offered me a hand and pulled me up. _

_"You did good out there, Nico," he said, placing an arm around my shoulder. _

_"I wound up on the ground," I muttered. "With your sword ready to deliver the final blow."_

_"I thought you had me for a second, there," he chuckled, leading me over to the water cooler. He poured us each a glass and sat down on the ground, motioning for me to do the same. I did._

_It took several minutes for our breathing to slow. Once it did, Percy said, "You'll have to fight ten times better than that in the coming year, if you want to survive."_

_"Why?" I asked, wiping sweat from my forehead. "What's going to happen?"_

_He looked at me, and his gaze softened. "That scar," he whispered._

_I instinctively reached up to my eye, and felt the groove in my face. It was a few degrees colder than the rest of my body. I shuddered and hugged my knees._

_He placed a hand on my shoulder. "I had to entrust that it would remain our little secret. You knew that."_

_I nodded and continued to stare at my knees._

_"It won't be safe here for very much longer," he said. "Nico, if you joined us, you would be safe. You would be on the winning side."_

_I still didn't say anything. _

_"Nico, please," he whispered, grabbing my chin and turning me towards him. "If you don't, they said they'll kill you."_

_"You wouldn't let them," I murmured._

_He shook his head. "Some things are beyond my control."_

_"If you really want something, you can make it happen," I said curtly, shrugging off his hand and standing up._

_"Nico," he said, standing up as well. He placed his hand on my shoulder again. "You don't want to mess with these people."_

_"If they're so terrible, then are you siding with them?" I asked._

_He looked away and sighed. "I'm in too deep."_

The world blurred together, the scene shifting.

_I was standing in a small room, a lavish office. The walls were dark, and seemed to shift, as if they were alive. The floor looked to be the same as the wall, its surface ever changing, though still remaining the same color, oddly enough._

_The entire back wall was made of windows. It was dark outside; the glow of the bustling city below was the only source of light, which had a very eerie effect on everything._

_As I my eyes began to adjust to the lack of light, I was able to make out a large desk, the wood most likely oak. It was very intricately carved, and featured an eagle in the middle, an olive branch in one talon, arrows in the other. Its head was pointing towards the arrows._

_Behind the desk, was a chair, its back high. It was turned towards the window. There didn't appear to be a door anywhere._

_I crouched back into the shadows as a loud crack broke the silence. A light flashed briefly, and a small, narrow figure appeared in front of the desk, its back to me._

_"It's nearly complete, my Lord," a soft, quiet voice said, the voice belonging to the figure in front of me. It was distinctly male._

_"Nearly?" a cold, gravelly voice queried. _

_"Oh, we've made much progress since the last checkpoint," the soft voice explained. "The serum is nearly forty-five percent effective now."_

_"Only forty-five?" the deeper voice questioned. _

_"My Lord, something of this magnitude takes time."_

_The cold voice chortled, then whispered softly, "Time. It's very valuable, is it not?"_

_The petite figure in front of me nodded vigorously, in an almost hyperactive way. _

_"And you're insisting that you need more of it, am I correct?"_

_"Yes, yes my Lord," the man said, his voice crackling. He was shaking slightly. "More time would be greatly appreciated."_

_There was a slight pause, broken by a sigh from the man sitting in the chair. "Will it be ready by the vernal equinox?"_

_"My Lord, I don't think-"_

_"That's exactly right. You don't think. That's our brother's job."_

_The small figure remained silent, his form quaking. _

_"Let me answer the question for you," the man in the chair said. I still couldn't see what he looked like. "It will be done by then, because I said so."_

_"Very well," the tiny man whispered. _

_"Now go. You need to get back to your duties. The sky looks very bland tonight. I should think our sister needs some accompaniment."_

_"Before I go," the man in front of me started. "Have you decided on how to dispose of that..." He paused for a moment, trying to choose his words. "Location?"_

_"No," the low voice whispered, cracking a bit. "I have not. Now, leave."_

_The room lit up, and somehow, I knew that it was a light that would have killed me instantly, had I not had golden blood coursing through my veins. _

_Once the room returned back to the darkness, the chair behind the desk creaked and turned around. I squinted as I tried to look at the face of the man sitting in it. I heard him sigh, and rest his head on his desk._

_He jerked his head up as soon as he rested it on the wooden beauty, and scanned the room. As my eyes grew accustomed to the darkness once again, I saw a pair of golden eyes rest on the area I occupied. _

_It was still too dark to see his facial features, but it couldn't have been hard to guess what his expression was as a familiar voice muttered, "Nico?"_

I snapped awake, so sure that I had been discovered, but I hadn't. I lay back in bed and buried myself in the covers, staring up at the ceiling. Reaching to my side and grabbing the small remote from my bedside table, I pushed the top button, and an area in the ceiling above my bed parted to reveal the sky.

The chilling wind quickly swept into the room, making me burrow deeper into the covers. I smiled as the cool air woke me up, making me more alert. The sky outside was a purplish color, the stars still visible if you looked hard enough.

_What in the world had I just dreamt about?_ I asked myself, rubbing the sleep out of my eyes. "What serum were they talking about?" I asked myself aloud. "And who were _they_, anyways?"

Something bad was about to happen, that much I could be sure of. I watched the sky turn an orange shade, and decided I should go fire message my father.

Sighing, I closed the sunroof, rising from my warm bed. I grabbed a clean shirt and pair of pants from my closet and changed clothes. I picked up a jar of peanut butter and some crackers, and headed out the door, tripping down the stairs in the process. The peanut butter went flying through the air, and I landed on a particularly large rock with my head.

"Gods," I mumbled as I stood, still gripping the little bag of crackers. I had squeezed them in the fall, so they were nothing but a pile of cracker dust. I opened the door and tossed the crackers back in the trailer and set off to find my jar of peanut butter.

After searching for a good two minutes, I gave up on the attempt, and returned to my fire pit. Then I remembered I didn't bring any paper to burn.

In the fire pit, scraps of the picture I had torn earlier, were still there. I reached down and arranged them into a pile. It wouldn't burn for long, but it would have to be enough. I willed a small flame to appear in my hand. Once it did, I placed it on the pile of paper. It ignited quickly, and I whispered, "Hades, the Underworld."

The fire swirled and my father's face appeared. It had a tomato red tinge to it, and I could see a large body of water in the background.

"Are you-" I started, then stopped for a moment, taking in the scene. "Are you at the _beach_?"

His eyes narrowed, and he said, "Do you know how much paperwork I have to fill out when you do not give the correct location of where I am?"

I raised an eyebrow. "None."

He nodded his head smugly. "Eh, you're right."

"You're sunburnt," I muttered.

"I'm _hiding_," he said, enunciating the words.

I shook my head, deciding to let it go. "Grace is no longer among the living."

The Lord of the Dead smiled. "Ah, good job my son. You have become quite the killer."

"I am not a killer," I said firmly, my fists clenched.

Hades looked taken aback. "Not a killer? Not a killer? You are most definitely a killer! A very ruthless killer, at that."

I sighed and closed my eyes, a single tear escaping. I whispered, "And I hate it."

I ran my hand through the flames and stood up, stomping the fire out. I ran to the edge of the cliff and looked out over the water. The murky, unforgiving water.

I took one last glance, and jumped.

* * *

**And the plot thickens. :O Leave me a review, if you would. You have no idea how happy they make me. :)**

******Oh, special thanks to my lil sis for sword fighting with me. Hehe, we have these nerf swords, and I was having some trouble envisioning the bit where Percy and Nico sword fight. We spent over an hour perfecting the scene, taking turns playing Percy and Nico. 'Twas quite fun, actaully. And it allowed me to have a better understanding of what goes on while sword fighting. I'd recommend it to anyone who has trouble writing those scenes. Seriously. :-/**


	5. Author's Note

March 16, 2011

Dearest Readers,

Hello! So, I was planning on updating soon, but… that hasn't worked out so well. I've been at a standstill. I've gotten 200ish words typed, but I just can't decide how I want this scene to play out. O_o

No, I'm not going on hiatus. (no matter how it looks) I promise I'll get back into the groove. I just need some time.

But, the reason why I'm writing this, is to ask for your help. As you may or may not know, _Death_ has been nominated for a Verita! :D Voting is going on right now, and it'd mean the world to me if I could actually win. If you like what I've got going so far with this story, would you go to my profile and click the link that asks you to vote? Please? And then, of course, vote for it. ;)

Oh, and I've got another _exciting_ piece of news: I now have a website! You can go on it and scroll through different pictures from my stories, and the character bios. There's a link on my profile, if you're interested.

I'll go ahead and show you what I've got written (very, _very_ rough draft)…

_I was flying through the air, the wind blowing all around me, beckoning me to float for all eternity. I felt alive, more alive than I had in a very, very long time. Then I hit the water._

_It was like falling on a sheet of concrete, the impact would have killed me instantly had I not been immortal. The bubbles swirled all around me, begging me to surface with them. I fought against the water, pushing it, propelling myself towards the darkness below._

_Once I felt I had reached a nice depth, I flipped over on my back, looking up at the surface. It seemed so far away, nearly within reach, but never quite there, like a lot of things…_

Eh, yeah…

You can review this _chapter_ if you want. I'm going to delete it whenever I get the actual chapter done. But keep in mind, if you do review this chapter, whenever I delete it and post a new one, you won't be able to review it. (unless you're anonymous)

Thank you all for the positive support. You guys are the bright spot in my day.

Forever & Always,

B. D. Legan


End file.
